John and George do their best to comfort an hysterical Paul
When Paul came round his legs were wet
A warm, dripping feeling running down his thighs.
Christ, it was blood
He staggered to the door which Stuart had left unlocked and down the hall to the bathroom where he locked the door and did his best to wipe away as much blood as he could. There was a splitting pain coming from his abdomen and he didn't know why. He just wanted it to stop. Some of the blood had dripped onto the floor, leaving a red trail on the ground. Paul sat himself on the toilet seat and took the time to cry out all his tears, which fell thicker than all the blood in his body. All he remembered from his horrific experience was Stuart's chilling words in his ear
You won't enjoy this
I'm not your precious John Lennon
Through his muffled sobs, Paul cursed himself, for being so weak and stupid. For letting Stuart dominate him like that. He should have screamed the house down the minute Stuart shoved him into the wall. Then John would have heard him and Stu would never have...
The memory made him cry harder. He flushed the bloodied paper towels down the loo and sunk into the corner, weeping and wailing like a madman. He pain was still there, spreading all over his lower area and the urge to scream out was unimaginable. He hated Stuart, he fucking hated him. He wished he could have gone back and kicked him where it bloody hurt. Or said yes, he didn't want to give into to Stuart's blackmail but surely it was better than this? How could he have been so-
The knock at the door made Paul jump out of his skin but it wasn't Stuart's voice. It was John's. Paul was about to get up to let him in when he remembered the state he was in. He couldn't let John see him like this. He hunched up tighter.
"Is anyone in there?"
He could hear John trying to turn the handle and backed up further
"Paul is that you?"
Shit, how did he know it was him?
"Go away!" Paul called out before he could stop himself
"Don't be like that Macca, come on I need a shower!"
"Just piss off!"
John frowned. Paul never spoke like that, not to anyone. Especially not to John. He knew at once something was wrong
"Paul, open the door"
"I said piss off!"
"Don't be gay, open the door!"
And then another voice
'What's going on?"
"Paul won't open the door"
"Paul, are you alright?"
"Just leave me alone, both of you"
"Not on your life. Don't make me knock this bloody door down"
Paul didn't reply, because he didn't think John would actually do it. John's concern for his young friend was greater than Paul thought. Within seconds the door came crashing in as John shouldered it. Paul jumped and curled into a ball so john couldn't see the shame in his face.
John looked around him.
The bathroom was a mess, paper towels sprawled all over the floor, some of them soaked with blood. There was blood running down the basin as well, where Paul's fingers had slid down it as he crumpled to the floor. the tap was still running, the sink filled to the brim with red water.
"Bloody hell Paul" said John, "What have you done?"
Paul curled up like a mouse, shivering as John placed a comforting hand on his back. He was trembling.
"Paul, what happened?" and then John saw the blood on his hands, "Why are you bleeding?"
Paul suddenly uncurled and started crawling backwards away from John
"Leave me alone" he said in a fearful tone
"Just leave me alone!"
The wounded child arose from the floor, pushing past George and making to his room. He slammed the door shut and threw himself on his bed, ignoring the dried bloodstains all over the sheets.
He buried his head in his pillow and cried like he'd never cried before, not caring if anyone heard him or not. John could hear the dreadful wails coming from the bedroom and instantly went to Paul's side. He rested his head on the pillow next to him, trying to see his face. George sat gingerly on the side of the bed, gently rubbing Paul's back comfortingly.
"Paulie?" John said softly, "What's wrong?"
Paul sat up then, throwing his arms around John and sobbing into his neck. John let him cry, rocking him gently like a baby. George always felt uncomfortable when people cried so he just sat there watching Paul in John's arms, shifting uneasily.
When Paul finally got to the stage where he'd run out of tears, he opened his mouth and stammered, "John..."
"Sssh, Macca. It's okay I'm here"
"I need to t-talk to you...a-alone"
John glanced at George who'd already got the message and giving Paul a final reassuring pat on the back, he left the room.
Paul lifted his head so he was staring into John's eyes
"What's wrong Macca?" asked John, smiling gently at him
Paul swallowed the lump in his throat which was the size of an apple. His mind shouted
I'll knock you to next year